Bloodbath: The Rebirth of the Hunger Games
by InkPenHandle
Summary: In an alternate timeline, the rebels failed, and the Capitol was left to pick up the pieces of the rebellion. Now, after enough time, Panem is stable once more, and the Hunger Games have started over. Watch as twenty four tributes fight to the death in the first annual reborn Hunger Games, and may the odds be in their favour.
1. Striving for Honour

**A/N: Greetings! This is a story set in an alternate Panem, where the rebellion failed, and the Games have reset themselves.**

**Now, some info: This story is actually a collaborative between several authors from a Hunger Games RP group. This is their story, edited to become one full story.**

**And first up, is the lovely District One, seen through the eyes of this year's female tribute, Diamante Adalina! :D**

* * *

**Diamante Adalina, District 1 Female Tribute**

* * *

"Dia?" I heard my brother call from the door of my room. With a groan, I turned over and pulled my covers over my head.

"Leave me alone Nick..." I mumbled with a sigh. "Just five more minutes, please?"

"Dia...Today's the reaping," he reminded me. My eyes flashed open, though rather than meeting the green walls of the room I shared with my brother, they met my white cover. Pushing it off of my head, I sat up and stared at my brother for a moment.

"The...Reaping..." I echoed quietly, getting him to smirk and nod in response. "Today...?"

"Yeah, and you're going to miss it if you stay sitting there with your mouth wide open," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Arugh," I muttered, plopping my head back down on my pillow. "I'm too tired, bro...Take my place?" He laughed and shook his head.

"Diamante, now you know I can't do that," he said softly. I heard his footsteps come toward my bed and he sat me up again before sitting by my side. I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed.

"I know!" I said.

"And plus...I thought you were really excited for this year?" He asked. Oh right! I was volunteering this year if I wasn't reaped. I shoved the blankets off my legs and slipped onto the floor, my shimmering green nightgown going down to my knees. "I see you still are?"

"Hell yes, Nick!" I shot back at him with a grin. "I'm going to win this thing! And you know it!"

"I'm sure you will," he answered with a hint of irony in his voice...What? Didn't he _truly_think I could win?

"You know, if you don't believe in me, then you don't believe in yourself since you were the one to teach me how to use a knife," I reminded him, going over to my closet.

"Nuh uh, Dia, I got what you're going to wear already! Go downstairs and eat something, I'll help you when you're done," he said as he jumped to my side, taking my hand. "And by the way, I have full faith in you, Dia." I shot him a happy smile and went on my tippy toes to kiss his cheek.

"Okay, thanks Nickie!" I chimed before turning toward the door of our room. I ate quickly and talked only briefly with my parents before rushing back upstairs where my brother was. It was already around seven and the reaping would commence in a couple of hours...I was nervous, though I didn't know why...I wanted to be reaped, so it wasn't fear that stirred me and my nerves up.

"Alright, Dia, I left your dress in the bathroom, go do what you have to do and I'll help you with that impossible hair of yours afterward," Nick told me with his soft smile. He seemed to be the only one in my family that knew how to handle my wildly curly hair. Sometimes I awoke with it in a controllable wavy flow and other days, like today, my curls decide to act up and go all over the place. According to Nick, it looked nice even without it being brushed and controlled, but I didn't like it...It felt weird on my head when the curls were just wild! Well, either way, the stylists would be able to deal with it since they've dealt with every sort of hair in their careers as stylists.

I took a quick shower, cleaning out my hair to the point my head ached with the amount of scrubbing I did. When I got out, I noticed the emerald green dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door. My eyes widened and I just stared at it for a moment, not even caring for the slight cold I felt on my bare skin around the towel wrapped around me.

My brother could work as a stylist for the Capitol if he let his actual designs be created. This dress was one of them, but it was probably one of the simplest ones. He had his own sewing machine in the basement of our home that he bought. One would think he was raised in District Eight with Capitolized parents and has the style of someone from District One, which is really where he was from.

The dress matched my dark emerald-green eyes and brought out my red hair even more. It wasn't anything too fancy because it was just a reaping, but if it were modified just a bit more, I think it could be used for an interview dress. The torso part of it had a black, silk layer with a dark green, flower-design lace that covered it until the waist where the knee-length skirt flowed down in a transparent fabric where the floral lace design continued.

Once I changed into it, I opened the door and smiled at my brother who was sitting on his bed, sketching. "Hey, Nick?" I called, snapping his attention over to me.

"Ohh, nice, Dia," he said as he put the sketch book down and walked up to me. "Twirl around for me, dear," he chimed, imitating Caesar's voice. I giggled and spun once for him, the skirt of the dress following the movement.

"Don't think it's too much?" I asked a bit sheepishly, turning back into the bathroom so he could do my hair. He took a brush and started to comb through my hair, thinning out the knots and left my moist hair gleaming and wavy. He pulled back my bangs to the side a little and pinned it back with a few other strips of my hair with a black butterfly hair clip.

"Not at all; you'll 'wow' the sponsors early," Nick told me as he turned me back around. "Ready?" He asked. I nodded confidently, my eyes shining. He led me out of the room and downstairs where I put on the black, bow-tipped flats my brother told me to wear.

I went into the next room over, which was the living room, to tell my mom that the reaping would begin in a few minutes, but all she did was glance over at me. Neither my mom or dad agreed with me volunteering if I wasn't reaped and they had already refused to support me in any way, shape, or form before. I doubt they'd do anything but nod and stare today. Sometimes I just hated them...Never even listened me out. Didn't they realize that if I won, it could mean everything to them!? Whatever, I didn't care.

"Alright, well, see you later," I said, turning abruptly and left the house, heading toward the Justice Building.

"Dia...'See you later'? Dad said-"

"I know what he said and I don't care," I replied curtly to Nick as he ran up to my side. He was twenty-four, too old for being part of the reaping, but he was the only one who supported me in anything I did. My parents would usually give me anything I wanted...besides their support.

"Diamante, calm down," he said, grabbing my wrist. I rolled my eyes and jerked my hand out of his.

"Nick, no. We've had this conversation before and I don't want to have it again. Leave it be or go back with them, okay?" I whipped back around and headed faster toward the long line to get printed. There were many super nicely dressed tributes there. At least those who could afford it were dressed similar to how I was, the others wore what they could to look nice.

"Next!" The lady taking the blood prints shouted. My attention turned back toward the line and I moved up, letting her prick my finger before sending me off with the cluster of girls my age waiting for the reaping to begin. Before long, every eligible tribute was in place and was anxiously staring up at the makeshift stage until the very lively escort came up.

I zoned out for most of it, not really needing yet another recap of what happened the last three years with the Rebellion and the Capitol's success. Of COURSE they would win, anyone with common sense could see that, yet those damned idiots that rebelled thought they had _any_ chance at all against the Capitol and its inventions. Stupid...But oh well, nothing we can do but go along with it. And this year is going to be exceptionally exciting! The Games have started over this year...and imagine...being the first victor of the new Games! I don't know who wouldn't be excited for _that_...

"Ladies first?" The Capitol woman chimed, going toward the glass bowl. I glared intently at the many envelopes of names. My name was in there seven times, from all the years I've been to a reaping without tessarae. Maybe if I had taken tessarae I would've been reaped earlier...But I'm a lot more ready _now _than I was before!

"Diamante Adalina, please come up here, sweetie," she said. I grinned brightly, not hesitating a moment when she called my name. I bounded up the stage, ending up beside her in a matter of seconds. "Ohh, eager one aren't you? How old might you be, dear?"

I giggled lightly, locking my hands behind my back. I stepped up to the microphone and said, "I'm eighteen! And most certainly looking forward to this year's Games." The lady smiled at my answer and motioned for me to stand back a few feet so she could have a straight path to the boys' bowl.

"James Leone! Lucky boy! Come on up!" She said, looking toward the boys' section. A familiar looking kid with dark brown hair and seemingly black eyes started up toward the stage, a serious expression planted on his tan face. "How old might you be?"

"Seventeen," he answered simply, glancing my way. I nodded slightly to him, a small smile on my face in greeting. I've seen him around school before, though not the Careers' Training Center. Cute boy, though...Might be able to use him, but we'll see.

"Any volunteers?" The escort asked. I clenched my jaw at this answer, glaring into the crowd of girls. There was no way I was going to allow a volunteer this year...It was _my _Games and no one else's...

Thankfully, there was no one brave enough to step up from either side. I knew this year would probably be the most deadly because of the previous Rebellion...But all the more reason to strive for honor, I think!

"Well then! There you have it: our tributes for the First Annual Hunger Games!" She said, looking back at us. I figured, from watching past Games, that the cameras were strained on our faces. More or less ignoring the silence that came with the endless attention from the crowd before us and the Capitol, I let the escort lead us into the Justice Building for an hour with any visitors.

As I suspected, only Nick and a few friends of mine came to see me, but I didn't care. I'd prove them they were wrong not agree with this!  
Before long, we were led out of the building and onto the train as the first tributes of the new Games.


	2. Image of Toughness

**James Leone, District 1 Male Tribute**

* * *

I wake up, well before dawn by falling out of bed. I'm even clumsy when I'm asleep- that takes skill.

I roll off of the dusty wood floor, sitting up. My bedroom is pretty big- I have a large bed in the corner, a desk, bookshelves, and a closet. My floor is cluttered with a mix of clothes and books on fighting. My dad is a pretty easy going guy as far as household chores go, which is probably why I can't remember the color of my carpet anymore.

On the floor near the foot of my bed, I spot my cousin's cat, Jimmy, curled up into a ball. Jimmy comes around to our house whenever he gets board of my cousin's constant fondling.

Jimmy and I are a lot alike.

After shooing him off before his family misses him, I pull on a grey t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts to go running in. I've always loved to run- it helps me calm down and think, even if I have nothing to think about.

I think a lot on reaping days.

I run out past our large lawn, to the nearby wooded area. My dad and I technically live in Victor's Village, because my grandfather won the games back in his day. My dad never wanted to risk his neck in the games, but now wants me to. I guess it should be an honor, but it just doesn't seem that way to me, it seems like a really dumb way to die.

I've really been training for this since I was a kid, a long time ago; when my dad decided that he'd make a victor out of me. I quit the training academy when I was ten, because I got scared, but my dad took it as his responsibility. He's taught me how to fight, run, be efficient with nearly every weapon, find food, and just about everything else under the sun, most of which I don't remember. I still don't think that I'm all that good, and I'm still weak at heart. I hate reapings for two reasons: 1. it's another year closer to when I'll have to volunteer myself and 2. I hate to see people cry. I could kill a hundred tributes, but I just can't take people crying. Next year, it'll be my mother, sobbing her pale green eyes out for me.

Next year, I'll have to volunteer, or face the disappointment of my father. My dad doesn't get mad, he gets disappointed, which is only about a million times worse. I take the loop back to my house, ending up on our driveway just as the sun shows its groggy head over the mountains. A long time ago, people called them the "Rockies" (What kind of ridiculous name is that? It's like calling a cat "Cattie" or a dog, "Doggie".), but now we just refer to them as the "Great Mountains". There are smaller ranges, around District 12 and 5, but these are the biggest- or at least I've heard.

Back inside, I take a warm shower, hardly paying attention. My father always thinks that we have to be studious and well-trimmed, since we're representing my grandfather, but I don't get it. Every year at the reaping, I have to wear a button-up shirt and a pair of well-pressed pants, because it looks "formal". I'll say it now: I hate looking formal. You know something? I hate a lot of things. I must just be a hateful person, or something.  
My dad is sitting on the sofa downstairs, sipping a cup of coffee, and reading a book. I tilt my head slightly to the right to catch the bright cover. The Second Great Rebellion by Peter Glits.

"Good reads?" I ask, plopping down in a chair adjacent to him.  
"Umhh." He replied, nodding. My father is not exactly a man of many words.  
I flip aimlessly through a magazine, until my father ushers me out the door, because we can't be late. I can agree with him there- waiting in lines isn't fun, and getting there early is the only way to avoid it.

We could drive, but my dad is under the impression that cars are around to look pretty in the driveway, and walking is, "better for you anyway,".  
Every year, I over-dramatize the fact that you have to get your finger pricked, and always assume that it's going to hurt real bad- it never does, although I still wince.

I take my place in the roped-off section for 17-year-olds, next to my best friend, Brent. Brent is like five foot six, but he's a firecracker. He has a mouth full of crooked teeth, which makes him look a bit evil.

I put on my best indifferent frown, and stare straight ahead. The Capitol escort goes on and on about the Capitol and how they're so great, and blah, blah, blah. The nice thing about living in District 1 is the fact that your Capitol escorts aren't half bad. They're pretty happy about where they are, and act like they actually care. The same cannot be said about most other districts, especially ten and eleven.  
The skinny woman goes to the girl's glass ball first, taking her good time. "Diamante Adalina, please come up here, sweetie," She says, smiling out at the crowd. Sweetie. My mom calls me that whenever she comes around, which makes it weird for a Capitol escort to be calling someone who she's never met before. Or maybe I'm just over-thinking things.

I don't even know why these stupid things matter to me.

An over-zealous girl that I vaguely recognize from school skips on to the stage, grinning brightly. She's pretty- red hair and too-perfect green eyes. I wonder for a moment, if she'll die, but the escort's hand in the boy's reaping bowl distracts me.  
"James Leone!" She shouts, scanning the crowd.

You know something? I never actually planned on volunteering next year.

That won't matter, I suppose, one way or another.

I climb to the stage, deciding to try and look tough. Maybe I can survive the bloodbath, just because people will think that I'm tough, or something.  
Am I tough? I guess it's about time to find out.


	3. Nerves

**Kinsey Foldier, District 5 Female Tribute**

* * *

Two young girls were lying on a soft mattress in the red brick house that held the Gould family. The older girl, Kinsey, had slept over with her cousin Payton who was frightened of her first reaping.

"Kinsey!" the youngest girl exclaimed, her blue eyes growing wide as she shot out of bed, shivering as the soles of her feet hit the cold wooden floor. Calmly, Kinsey turned on the blue lamp which shot out a dim light, clear enough for Kinsey to see the worried face of her cousin. Payton's face had turned pale and small drips of sweat dripped down her chestnut brows.

"What's wrong?" Kinsey yawned as she rubbed her eyes and sat up, her red hair falling down her back. Slowly, Payton sat back down on the mattress to tell her cousin what she saw.

"L...last night" Payton said between nervous breaths, "I had a dream that I was picked in the reaping. I was wearing that gorgeous dress my mom made for me, and the dream was wonderful, but then I was standing there. The only girl in all of District Five and I was reaped for the Hunger Games!"

The red-headed girl sighed, her eyes slowly getting glassy, "I won't let anything happen to you Payton." The young brunette's eyes got real wide and was about to say something, but didn't. She just looked down and fiddled with some loose threads on her nightgown. It was silent for awhile as the light bulb slowly flickered casting shadows on the plain beige walls. It was an old lamp and barely worked, but Payton and Kinsey were too afraid to get a new one.

"Let's go eat" Kinsey suggested, "We have a long way to go before the reaping at two." The two young girls walked out into the dimly lit hallway, gingerly walking across the old wooden floor to the kitchen.

"Are your brothers and sister coming?" Payton asked sitting in her favorite chair on the left side of the table in the middle.

"I told them to meet us here at seven" Kinsey whispered remembering her aunt and uncle were in the next room sleeping. Payton's parents had been too worried about their daughter that they had been awake half the night checking on Payton to make sure she wasn't having any nightmares. Grabbing a couple loaves of day old bread, Kinsey began to prepare some porridge and cut the bread into nice healthy slices. As Kinsey worked, the kitchen began to smell of berries as it wafted around the room lifting the spirits of the two young girls. Payton was looking in the cupboards for ceramic bowls and silverware when Kinsey's five siblings walked through the doorway. Conor and Liam, even though they weren't in the reaping anymore, went to to support their sisters and brother.

"How are you guys doing?" Conor asking running his hand through his messy brown hair. Payton whimpered and looked into the porridge bowl that she was holding, then setting it on the place mat she sat down and waited slowly running her foot back and forth against the rough maroon carpet beneath her.

"You nervous squirt?" Conor asked his young cousin who nodded slowly, her long curls shielding her face from her cousins. Mona, Kinsey's older sister sat next to Payton resting her pale hand on Payton's back rubbing it slowly up and down on her cotton night dress.

"Your name is only in there once" Mona said reassuring her.

"Breakfast is ready!" Kinsey squeaked. For the first time she was frightened of the reaping.

"What if it's my name?" She thought, "What if I have the same fate as my brother?" Kinsey's eyes began to get watery just thinking about it. She couldn't leave her family, most especially Payton. Serving the hot bowls and bread, Kinsey sat on the other side of Payton and ate quietly. Sun was shining through the wispy red curtains as the family dined together. All was silent as the worried children sat and ate their meals until footsteps and whispers were heard from the hallway.

"I can't handle this" Nora Gould, Payton's mother said. Aidan held his wife's shoulders and smiled weakly at her. Nora frowned and trudged into the kitchen smiling at the six faces looking at her. Her dark hair was in a messy bun and she had dark circles under her eyes, the signs of a bad night's sleep.

"Payton, your dress is in your room for when all of you are done" Payton's mother said sitting for a short breakfast.

A few hours later Kinsey was standing in front of the mirror back at her house. Her bright pink lips standing out against her pale white skin as she gingerly ran her hand across her face. She stood in a pale blue dress, strapped and cinched at the waist reaching just above her knees. Pulling the sides of her hair back, she tied them and secured them with a blue clip that once had belonged to Mona. She stood there sighing at herself while she wore dark blue flats and a violet sweater, she was ready.

"Kinsey" Mona said peeking her head through the door while pulling her brown hair into a bun.

"Yes..." Kinsey replied frowning at herself in the mirror.

"I wanted to give you something" Mona started, "They were mom's." She entered the room, her black heels clicking against the wood floor as she opened her hands in front of her younger sister. Inside was a pair of white pearl earrings.

"Why are you giving these to me?" A confused Kinsey asked almost not wanting to accept the gift.

"Because you are thirteen now" Mona said extending her arms, "and this is my last reaping anyway." Mona took Kinsey's hand and placed the earrings in them closing her sister's fist tight.

"Keep them safe, okay?" Mona said looking into her sister's crystal blue eyes. Kinsey nodded as she shakily held the earrings to her face, and pushed them through the partly closed holes on her lobes.

"You ready then?" Mona asked. Looking at herself one last time, Kinsey smiled.

"Yes" she replied. The whole family walked together to the place the reaping would be. The bright yellow sun high in the sky as it showered district five with luminous light. However it was not a bright occasion. The Foldier family and Payton walked slowly in the line to get their fingers pricked. One by one children that they knew, children that they had played with and grew up with were being ushered into the tight enclosure where two of those children would be sent out to their death.

"Kinsey" Payton whispered, her blue eyes bigger than ever as she looked over the giant men in big white suits.

"They are just the peacekeepers Payton" Kinsey said, trying to fight with herself. She wanted to escape, she wanted to close, but she had Payton with her that time.

Making it to the front of the line, a peace keeper held the device out towards Kinsey.

"Kinsey Foldier, thirteen" She said holding out her finger which was pricked, printed, and she was shoved into an enclosure with all the other thirteen year-old girls of District five.

"Where's Payton?" Kinsey thought as she looked for the twelve year-old enclosure, but could not see her little cousin. Each member of her family had decided to wear some shade of blue so that they would all match and be able to find each other easily. Payton was in a light blue, almost white dress, but could not be found.

"Payton..." Kinsey groaned. She was interrupted however when the District five escort dressed in the crazy capitol get-up approached the sleek black microphone and began to recite the history of Panem. The country rose out of the ashes of something that was once called North America. They were told about all the trials and tribulations that their ancestors were put through and how the Capitol rose up and saved them. By then however Kinsey had zoned out and was watching a frail orange and yellow butterfly flutter above the heads of the worried children. Kinsey despised those colors but was mesmerized at the majestic beauty of the innocent creature. The escort then began to tell how the Hunger Games came up and asked for a moment of thanks. After that was over, the story was finished.

"Happy Hunger Games!" The bubbly escort giggled as they waved out towards the many eyes staring up at the glistening stage. "Ladies first!" The district five escort walked slowly to the giant glass bowl full of tiny white slips of paper, thousands of girls names scrawled on them in delicate handwriting.

"My name is only in twice... Payton's once" Kinsey thought to herself after being snapped back into reality. The pale white hands of the escort dropped slowly into the bowl, and brought out a single slip of paper.

Clearing their throat, the escort read, "Kinsey Foldier!" The small red-headed girl's face and heart sank at the same time as girls all around her separated for her to move. Yet she remained frozen as her eyes began to get glassy once more.

"Kinsey!" A high voice cried out. It was Payton, her eyes wide with fear. Stiffly Kinsey noticed her cousin looking at her, and mustered up the power to shake her head. The peacekeepers roughly led her down the dirt path up to the stage. The noise of Kinsey's shoes hitting the stage echoed through out district five for all was silent. She looked at Mona, who was also petrified, but didn't volunteer. Kinsey remained in this frozen state until she stood next to her escort.

"Kinsey Foldier everyone!" The escort rang. She just stood there staring at her freshly polished shoes wondering how that could have happened. Most families in district five didn't need tesserae, but there still should have been girls with their names in at least three times as much as she. Before Kinsey could gather her thoughts, it was time for the male tribute to be announced. Kinsey hoped with every being that her one brother would be safe for she knew Rogan's name was in the bowl four times, twice as many as hers was.

Before Kinsey could have another thought, the name rang through out the district, "Austin Carter!" A tall, strong boy walked up the stairs swiftly. He didn't say anything, he didn't look at anyone, and he didn't hesitate as he boldly took his spot next to Kinsey. Everyone in district five knew Austin's name. He was strong and gifted with the sword. Austin had hoped to be reaped into the Hunger Games since he was twelve.

"Good luck shrimp" he scoffed as he waved towards the cameras. One last call is made for volunteers, but nobody speaks up. The reaping continues with more speeches but Kinsey remains frozen on stage unable to think as she looks at the faces of her family. Conor was standing next to Liam and the other adults who were there to watch. They stared at her sadly. Liam was even crying. Her father stood as far back as he could, and held that expressionless face like he always had. Mona was trying to keep her composure, but Kinsey knew her sister was hurt tremendously. Then there was Rogan who refused to look up, because he knew that if he made eye contact with his sister he would lose it. Payton was crying. She was kneeling on the ground crying into her knees. All of Payton's hope was lost. Kinsey's uncles and aunts stood sadly together. All in the time span of a few minutes, Kinsey's life had come crashing down on top of her. She looked up at the smug face that stood beside her, and knew it would be over.


	4. Easy Kills

** Austin Carter, District 5 Male Tribute**

* * *

The sun was just rising as the teenage boy rolled out of his bed onto the dusty floor. He had been too busy preparing for the reaping to clean in awhile. Rubbing his eyes he began to look for his dresser. Anticipating this moment for weeks, he pulled out a neat dark blue shirt and khaki pants. His very best, for his favorite occasion.

"Austin" A small voice said from outside of the room.

"Yeah Gram!" Austin called while casually messing up his dark brown hair.

"Just making sure you were up" his grandmother replied. Austin, since the moment he was twelve wanted to be part of the Hunger Games no matter what. He never volunteered though, because then it would look like he cared about whatever kid was picked instead of him. So instead Austin just went on with his life hoping he would get to participate. He exited his room into the carpeted hallway so that he could make a quick breakfast for his small family. Grabbing some bread and jam, he prepared the meal and set it on the table for his grandmother and self.

"Gram, the breakfast is ready!" Austin called out while sitting in the rough oak chair. A small elderly woman, about seventy walked slowly into the room. Her white hair pulled in a clean bun as she sat across from her grandson.

"So are you excited?" She asked sadly.

"Yeah" Austin replied in between ferocious bites, "I really hope this year is my year. In about an hour I am going to go meet with Erica and we are going to hang out until the reaping."

"All right Austin" His grandmother replied obviously upset at his lack of concern. After breakfast, Austin left the small white shack like home to get to the lake where Erica was. When he arrived, Erica's sleek black hair was thrown over her shoulder, and she was in a simple green dress while sitting on the bank of the lake her tan legs resting in the water.

"Hey Erica" Austin said sitting in the lush grass next to her. The lake was the cleanest part in district five with the clean, crystal water and green grass.

"Today is the reaping" Erica said not looking up from the water.

"I know, and I am so excited" Austin cheered.

"You don't get it" She replied looking down.

"What do you mean?" Austin asked.

"You don't get anything about all of this" She started, "The Hunger Games aren't good." Austin just sat there for a moment and thought.

"I lost half of my family through the Hunger Games, Austin. I can't lose you too. You just don't understand" She said tears trickling down her face.

"It's a chance to be powerful and to prove yourself" He responded.

"It is also a chance to get killed. You of all people should know better" Erica said bitterly, "Both of your parents died there."

"That was their own fault. They couldn't fight" Austin said harshly.

"They burned to death Austin, By something the Capitol created" She responded.

"It's going to be okay" He said kissing the top of her head. He then began to braid his hair like they used to do.

"No it won't" She said pulling his hair out of his rough hands, "The Games change you."

"I'm still Austin" He said.

"Not the Austin I knew... not the Austin I loved" Erica replied starting to cry.

"What has gotten into you?" Austin asked slightly angry.

"I'll see you later Austin" She said getting up and walking down the dirt path to her dark brick colored house on the other end of the district. For minutes Austin sat there alone staring at his reflection in the lake, his bright green eyes hungry with power. Ripping the grass out of the dirt, Austin stood up and walked angrily to the power plant at which he worked. It was a giant silver building in which the power was generated for Panem. The grass was dead, and the sky was murky, but it was where Austin spent his time when not with Erica. Swiftly Austin made his way to the back entrance where he worked at night and retrieved his sword from the guard there at the moment. It wasn't the best blade. It had a black handle and a long silver blade that was already slightly blunt from the many times Austin had used it. He walked over to his favorite oak tree. It was tall and beautiful with bright green leaves blowing ever so slightly in the almost nonexistent breeze. The whole trunk was covered in slash marks of every kind, from the tip and sides of Austin's sword from the many years of practice. He grunted as he swung the sword at the beaten up trunk and did so repeatedly for many hours until he figured he should return home so he could go to the Reaping with his grandmother. He looked at his sword again, little did he know it would possibly be the last and handed it back to the tired older man standing guard at the power plant. He then wiped the sweat off his forehead and headed back to his little white home.

Opening the door, Austin called out, "Gram!"

"Yes dear" A squeaky voice responded.

"You ready?" He asked.

"Yes dear" She responded once more while slowly walking out of her creaky bedroom door, her white curls pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head.

"Let's go then" Austin said heading out the door ahead of his grandmother. Living on the outskirts of the district they walked for about five to ten minutes until they saw all the children of district five ushered into one location. Austin waved goodbye to his grandmother and stood in line to get identified. As the line shortened, Austin looked casually over the many children and teens who had gathered hoping to spot Erica in the mess, but he couldn't find her. Eventually it was his turn.

"Austin Carter, sixteen" He said sticking out his finger which was pricked, printed, and then he was shoved into the sixteen year-old boys enclosure. Austin had seen these kids around. Some of them had even worked at the power plant with him over the years, but he didn't care about them. He was just scanning the girls enclosures analyzing whether or not he could kill them, how quickly, and with what. There were many girls that Austin figured he could brutally murder the first time he got the chance if he was reaped but then he was interrupted when the District five escort approached the stage in her wild outfit. She wore an obnoxiously bright suit and had long straight black hair. Her eyelashes were long, and her eyebrows were short. Austin didn't care, he just wanted the actual Reaping to start. She then walked briskly up to the microphone and began to recite the history of Panem how it had risen out of the ashes of what was once North America. They were told about all the trouble the original district citizens had gone through and what the Capitol did to save them. She also told about district thirteen, the rebellion and how the Hunger Games had come about. That was always Austin's favorite part of the Reaping, getting to hear about district thirteen. The escort asked for a moment of thanks, and then she was done. Austin waited with anticipation as the woman walked over to a giant glass bowl, her heels clicking against the glinting stage.

"Ladies first!" She announced. The escort dipped her hand into the glass ball and with her golden nails and pulled out a tiny slip of white paper.

After clearing her throat the escort called out, "Kinsey Foldier!" Austin turned around to look for the young girl frozen in her tracks.

Austin scoffed, "Easy kill" The other boys just stared at him with fear and looked as the trembling red-headed girl made her way up to the stage looking left and right frantically for what was probably her family. Austin stared her down as the young Kinsey stood on the top of the black stage.

All was silent until the escort said once more, "Kinsey Foldier everyone!" Austin smiled as the female tribute shook in fear.

"How weak" Austin said his arms folded looking at the disgrace of his district. Before another thought could be thought of, the escort approached the boy's bowl and pulled out a wispy sheet of paper.

"Austin Carter!" The escort exclaimed. A smile was brought about the tough boy's face as he proudly pushed through the other boys onto the stage next to Kinsey. He waved and smiled at the cameras knowing it was finally his time. Erica looked up at him from the front of her enclosure with teary eyes. Looking down she knew that Austin was gone for good. His grandmother just turned her head for she knew what the Hunger Games did. They tore families apart. Her own son had been killed and now she feared the same fate would befall her grandson. Austin was tough though and certainly proud.

Turning his head to face Kinsey, Austin said, "Good luck shrimp," which only made the girl tremble more. The Reaping was coming to an end but Austin never removed his gaze from the camera. If all else failed he would need sponsors.

"Well there you have it everyone. Kinsey Foldier and Austin Carter, this years district five tributes! Happy Hunger Games!" She exclaimed as the two tributes were being ushered off of the stage.


	5. Viewer Appeal

** Arabella Greene, District 6 Female Tribute**

* * *

"One...Two...Three..." I whispered softly to myself when the routine shriek from my parents' room aroused my father from his slumber. I pulled the rough covers over my head as if I was still asleep when I heard his feet against the wooden floor of our home in district six.

"Bella" He whispered. Reluctantly I pulled the covers off of my face and looked at him his face weary from the many sleepless nights with my mother. She like many other victors from my district was addicted to morphling and often wakes up screaming to crazy hallucinations of what I can only imagine to be her time in the arena.

"You know what today is," He began, "It's the Reaping and you also know this day is especially hard on your mother."

"Dad, I know. I'll get moving. It's only morning" I responded closing my eyes in the hope of having just another glimpse of sleep. Apparently that wasn't allowed when the sun shone through my window right into my face causing me to get up anyway. I wasn't willing to allow the Reaping to ruin my day so I did as my father asked pulling my practically white curls into a low side pony tail. A white cotton butterfly top was lying on my dresser and as I slipped it over my head I heard my name called out.

"Arabella!" A familiar voice rang from outside my window.

"Just a second!" I called while putting on my pants and shoes. Then opening the window I saw Marcia's impish brown eyes look at me.

"You ready?" She asked with a smile.

"Pretty much, are you coming for breakfast?" I asked her.

She responded, "Yeah I don't really want to be home right now." I helped pull Marcia through the window after snagging her red dress on one of the loose nails. I couldn't help but laugh as she cursed under her breath and ripped a long strip of the dress off the bottom causing it to fray.

"This is just great" She said looking at herself in my mirror.

"It's a statement" I giggled, "Against the Capitol."

"Okay, I can live with that" She smiled already making her way to the kitchen down the hall.

"I'll be right there!" I called to her knowing I would have to go into the lifeless room that was my parents'. The walls were a pale pasty gray that sent chills down my spine and the eerie forest painting behind the bed freaked me out. I had to feed my mother though so I trudged into the room trying not to look up when the wild eyes of my mom stared at me. Her skin had become a scaly yellow color and all the life was practically drawn from her. It was a pathetic sight.

"Hi mom" I said walking further into the room. A bowl of oatmeal was already waiting on the end table. It was pretty much all we ever ate. In silence I knelt next to the bed and slowly helped feed her until there was nothing left. Then kissing her on the head I grabbed the bowl and began to leave.

"See you tonight" I whispered.

"You promise?" She asked. I was startled to hear her talk. I turned around and looked into her wild blue eyes again.

"Yes I do." I told her. I stood like that for awhile but realized then she wouldn't say anything else so I went to the kitchen to see Marcia and my father conversing over the maple table. I stood by the sink washing my mother's bowl while listening to them discuss the Games.

"I hear we have a new escort" Marcia said, "he's a total buffoon."

"He can't be any worse than the old lady" My father said.

"I guess we will see" I added after soaping down the ceramic bowl. I was pulling the bowl out when we heard a knocking at the door and I dropped the bowl. It shattered into dozens of pieces around my feet.

"Shoot" I grumbled while kneeling down to clean it up. My father had gotten up to answer the door. Marcia and I waited at the table for what was probably half an hour when my father came back with cuts and bruises on his face. His warm blood trickling from a gash in his cheek.

"Dad!" I exclaimed while springing from my seat, "What happened to you?"

"It was the peacekeepers" He replied as he nonchalantly got back into his chair. Marcia and I just sighed for there was nothing we could do. The peacekeepers here were always trying to find something wrong so that they could torture you whether you actually committed a crime or if you needed a haircut there was always something.

"Sometimes they make my blood boil" I said.

"It's all right Bella. Just finish up we need to go for the Reaping soon" He told me. I didn't argue, instead I enjoyed the rest of the meal with my family and Marcia.

Later that day I said goodbye to my father as I was ushered into a long line of kids to be printed. I could recognize some faces but district six was much to big. The building where the Reaping took place stood next to the lake it's tall glistening structure reflected in the pool of water. The sun shone through the clouds granting us a beautiful day.

"Hey cupcake" I heard someone say from behind me. Rolling my eyes I turned around to see who it was this time. To no surprise it was the little twerp Sloane his black hair glinting in the sun.

"When will you guys leave me alone?" I asked getting red in the face. When I looked over my shoulder Marcia was already gone lost in the waves of helpless children fearing for their lives.

"Hey what if I was reaped today you would feel terrible" He smiled.

"I would laugh and then watch you die" I said turning around to get printed. Then I was violently pushed over to where the other girls my age were, not looking back once to see what stupid face Sloane had that time.

We stood there for the longest time. I guess the new escort didn't know what punctuality was. After waiting for probably twenty minutes a tall man probably in his mid thirties walked onto the dull gray stage before us as the crowd went quiet. He looked like he stepped out of a disco movie. He went on to telling us about the history of Panem and things I didn't really care enough about. Instead I kept looking through the humongous crowds hoping to find Marcia when I saw the shredded gown in the corner of my eyes. She rolled her eyes as if saying Found me soon enough. I giggled and waved at her. It was then that our escort walked over on his weird silver platform shoes to the giant crystal ball that held all the names of the girls eligible in district six.

"Forty-three times" I thought, "That's a lot..." I stood there staring up at the green eyes of our escort as he pulled out a white piece of paper and gingerly began to unfold it.

"Arabella Greene!" He called out.

"Crap" Is all that escaped my lips as the peacekeepers began to lead me through the crowds of girls to the stage where I was put next to the man who had decided my fate.

"Well you sure are a pretty little thing aren't you?" He asked with that fake Capitol smile I have grown to dislike so much, but instead I just smiled and giggled hoping to appeal to the viewers.

"Your female tribute everybody!" He exclaimed as I looked out into the crowds. My father looked terrified I was his only child after all and he and I both knew he couldn't take care of my mother without me. I smiled at him to let him know I wouldn't give up that easy. Then there was Marcia who just nodded at me. I knew what she meant. Our escort was already at the crystal ball for the boys and in that moment, the Games truly did begin.


	6. Out of Luck

**Ella Lawson, District 7 Female Tribute**

* * *

Ella searched through her meager wardrobe for her reaping outfit. The spring green skirt and white polo shirt fit her exactly and they covered up her tattoo.

A knock on her door made Ella whirl round. No one ever respected the sign on her door that said "DO NOT ENTER"; at this rate she'd have to install a moat. She smiled wryly as she opened the door. Her entire entourage of cousins stood outside. Deaf to her objections, they pulled her to her bed and began to work on her hair. Helen and Rebecca started giggling as they did this, but Imogene sat down on the bed next to Ella and bit her lip.

"I'm worried about the reaping Ella. It's my last year."

Irritation crossed Ella's face, her cousin had started biting her nails now and she looked frightened. "You? Get picked?" Ella snorted. Deep down she was nervous herself, but Ella just rolled her eyes.

Later walking down into the square, Ella fidgeted nervously with the howling wolf charm on her necklace, it matched her tattoo and although it may not have helped her best friend Jamie through her first reaping, it was doing very well for Ella.

As soon as their escort bounced onto the stage and started the video, Ella stopped listening. It was always the same boring stuff every single year… how dull. When their escort reached into the girls glass bowl, however, Ella leaned forward and held her breath. She rubbed her charm furiously and fought the nauseous feeling in her stomach.

"Ella Lawson! Come up you lucky girl!" he screeched. Ella let out her breath and walked forward, swallowing back sobs and marched white-faced to the stage. She held her head high and was surprised to find her voice steady when she announced her age to the entire district.

Chrissy called forward the boy and Ella looked him coolly in the eyes and they shook hands and were taken away to the Justice Building.


	7. Pinky Promise

**Palmer Willows, District 7 Male Tribute**

* * *

Palmer walked wearily down the street, the result of a long day getting to him. Despite the fact that his job wasn't very physically taxing, it required 100% of his attention and focus. But at the end of the day, he really shouldn't be complaining; it was what secured his family their reasonably decent house.

The scent of pine filled Palmer's nostrils as he passed by a large truck that was delivering the lumber from the lumber yards to the train station, where it would be transported to the Capitol. Normally, Palmer's father would be on one of those trucks, but not today. It was pre-reaping day, as Palmer's friend Oak liked to call it; most workers and businesses operated for less time, so that the whole of the district could be organised and prepared to be televised for the reapings.

Palmer continued down the street, quickly crossing the dirt road, arriving in the considerably richer section of the district that he was proud to call home. It wasn't quite all rainbows and sunshine, but more middle class than anything else. Which was fine; his situation meant that he still was in relative comfort and luxury, without having to worry about the more desperate citizens attempting to steal his possessions to make a quick bit of money for themselves. Sure, the state of some of these people broke Palmer's heart, but he drew the line at still feeling sympathy for them when theft was in the equation. After all, theft was a crime punishable by death, and Palmer had seen his fair share of public executions in his time.

Returning to the solid pavement, Palmer walked along the grey tiles, each one giving off a slight golden sheen, courtesy of the evening sun. Sunsets always were a thing of beauty to Palmer; they gave off a calm feeling of peace and relaxation, an extreme contrast to the considerably busy lives of the citizens of District 7. As the flaming circle of reds and oranges lowered further and further into the horizon, Palmer found himself falling to the ground, followed by hearing the sound of mischievous laughter.

"Got you!" The husky voice of one of Palmer's best friends, Larch, reached his ears, and Palmer turned his head, moving his brown hair out of his eyes of the same colour, to come face to face with the redheaded girl.

"That you did, Larch." Palmer mused, stifling a laugh. If there was one thing that Larch was known for, it was her brash, tomboy-like nature. She worked in the lumber yard, alongside her parents, and the job suited her like no other. After all, swinging a massive axe gave her a sort of rush that jobs in the factories didn't satisfy. "Now, could you kindly give me an explanation as to why you've just tackled me to the ground?"

"Oh, that!" Larch exclaimed, quickly getting off her best friend, blushing slightly, "Sorry if I hurt you, but this is really really important!" Yet again, she was practically bouncing off the walls. It didn't take much to trigger her hyperactive nature at all.

"What is it?" Palmer questioned, getting to his feet, wiping the dust from the floor onto his shirt.

"Oak finally managed to save enough money for the three of us to go out to the café!" She cried out, and Palmer had a hard time supressing an excited scream as well.

"Seriously?!" He exclaimed, a massive smile growing onto his pale face. Compared to his friends, Palmer's skin complexion was rather pale; Oak did work in the same factory as him, but he did spend weekends out with his family, and Larch practically lived outdoors, contributing to her constant tan.

"I'm deadly serious!" Larch replied, before running down the street. She reached the corner, before stopping, looking at Palmer. "Come on! He's already there, waiting for us!"

Shaking his head slightly at Larch's seemingly endless pile of enthusiasm and energy, Palmer picked up his pace, reaching Larch quickly. The two quickly matched each other's pace, and they were soon walking side by side.

"Hey, Larch," Palmer began, as they walked through a massive pile of pine leaves that Larch wasted no time jumping into, "How come we're going today? Most people do this sort of thing after the reapings."

"I don't know," Larch replied, climbing out of the pine leaves, "All I know is that Oak wants us there now," Suddenly, she stopped still, and gave out a slight chuckle, "Hey, Palmer..."

"What now?" Palmer asked, sighing. "If this is another one of your-"

"Surprise!" Larch suddenly sprang to life, and threw two fistfuls of pine leaves at him. They quickly got into his hair, and all over his face.

"Oh, you didn't just do that!"

Wiping the majority of the leaves from his hair, Palmer reached into the pile, and began to continually toss them at Larch. She kept dodging, and retaliated by throwing even more at him, becoming harder and faster with each throw. Eventually, the large pile ceased to exist, and the two friends lay in a heap, laughing and smiling. They continued like this until Larch looked up at the sky. In the time period that they had spent bombarding each other with leaves, the sun had nearly disappeared entirely.

"Oh no!" She yelled, before leaping to her feet. Palmer did the same, and the two exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

"What is it?" Palmer asked. He felt that there was something that he was supposed to remember, but could not recall it at all.

"Oak!" Larch blurted out, before sprinting down the road, Palmer right behind. How could they have forgotten! That was the whole reason they were out at all.

_How brilliant,_ Palmer told himself as the pair of friends darted through a section of houses, heading slowly towards the commercial side of the district, _leave it to you to forget something like that so quickly._ They crossed yet another road, before the slight scent of burning fires filled the air; the smell of the commercial section.

Finally, Larch turned one last corner, and stood completely still, allowing for the now panting Palmer to quickly catch up with her. He reached her, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, and Larch let out a smile, pointing in front of her. Palmer followed her gaze, and also let out a grin. There, standing just in front of them, was the café, its clear glass doors allowing a sneak peak into the second most homely building in District 7- second only to their own homes. Even then, there were some people that spent more time sitting at one of the wooden tables than with their families.

"Let's go in!" Larch eagerly exclaimed, and ran up to the doors, before pushing them open. The scent of brewing tea instantly reached Palmer, and he found himself being pulled in by the mouth watering aroma alone. Soon enough, they had both crossed the threshold, and the doors swung shut behind them, allowing for the quaint atmosphere of the place to be properly absorbed.

There was a black and white checker pattern that covered the entirety of the floor, each little square being large enough for Palmer to step both of his feet into. Several lampshades hung from the roof, giving the entire place a warm, welcoming glow, along with the ceiling fans that were strategically placed throughout the room, keeping it at a constant refreshing temperature. And all of this, combined with the idle conversations of customers over hot mugs of tea, and other various beverages, gave the café a sense of nostalgia to Palmer.

"Hey, you two!" A voice carried out over the rich atmosphere, and Larch and Palmer turned their heads to see their long time best friend, Oak, sitting, almost ironically, at a rather large oak table, holding several notes of money in his hands.

"Hey, Oak!" Larch called back, before rushing over to their dark blonde haired friend, "Come on, Palmer!" The three of them all let out a laugh as Palmer sauntered over to them, barely avoiding running into a woman as she bit down into a small cake.

"Sorry!" He quickly called out to her, and the woman shook her head at him, smiling softly.

"Just be more careful next time. There was no damage done, so it's alright." Palmer nodded apologetically, before reaching the table. He grabbed a seat, and sat down next to Oak, Larch sitting on the other side of the blonde boy.

"I'm sorry we took so long," Larch began light heartedly, "It's just that there was this pile of leaves, and me and Palmer sort of declared war on one another." In response to this, Oak began to laugh.

"And you didn't think to let me know?" He wiped a stray tear from one of his eyes, "Shame on you."

"I would have," Palmer added, "But you try doing anything when you have a ruthless redhead assaulting you with a pile of leaves, each one acting like they were being fired at a hundred miles an hour."

"True, true," Oak continued, his expression one of deep thought, "But, I don't know, couldn't you have developed telepathy just to let me know?"

This last statement caused all three of them to simultaneously burst into a fit of laughter. Fortunately, the sheer amount of conversations going kept people from being distracted to the point of staring.

"Look, Oak," Palmer giggled, a wide grin crossing his face, "You can't just develop telepathy; it doesn't work like that!"

"I know," Oak replied, running a hand through his hair, "But if you could, imagine the possibilities!"

"Yeah!" Larch cried out, "You'd be able to have conversations when you're on seperate sides of the district!"

"It'd be cool," Palmer began, "But unfortunately, it doesn't exist." This caused an exasperated sigh to escape from Oak's lips.

"A guy can dream!" Palmer's blonde friend replied, before standing up, "Well, I suppose I should be getting something to fill our stomachs. What do you guys want?"

"Ooh!" Larch practically leapt up into the air, "I'd like a mug of hot cocoa, and one of those little cakes! You know, the ones that have those delicious jam fillings!"

"I know the type," Oak said with a smile, before turning to Palmer, "What about you?"

"Me?" Palmer paused for a moment, "I'd like their speciality tea. Ask for a dash of sugar, and a hint of cream; it really brings out the flavour."

"Got it." Oak said assuringly, and crossed the café, joining the queue of people.

With it only being the two of them remaining at the table, Larch turned to Palmer, her face hard, and full of concern. Palmer instantly noticed the change in her expression, and faced her, his own expression softening.

"Hey, Larch. You okay?" He asked softly. In response, Larch simply shook her head, tears dripping from her cheeks.

"No, I'm really not." A sob briefly burst out of her, and a stabbing feeling of sorrow filled Palmer at the sight of his best friend breaking down into a sobbing fit. "Palmer, I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" Palmer questioned. The three of them were enjoying themselves together in the best place in the whole of District 7. What was there to be scared of? The realisation hit Palmer an instant before it spilled out from Larch's lips.

"The reapings." Larch said darkly, her voice trembling. "Palmer, I had to take out tesserae this year."

This realisation struck right into the core of the brown haired boy. Of course, he always knew that Larch wasn't as financially well off as himself and Oak, but he'd never have imagined it was that bad.

"How come?" Palmer asked, confused and concerned.

"Well, you see... My mother. She's, um," Larch took a series of deep breaths, and wiped a tear from her face, "Pregnant."

So that explained it. After all, there were only so many mouths that could be fed on only the money supplied by working in the lumber yards.

"Oh, Larch," Palmer began softly, his tone full of concern and consideration, "I had no idea. No wonder you had to take out tesserae." He stopped talking for a moment, to clear his throat, "Just out of question, how many times do you have your name in now?"

"Ten." She replied bluntly, trying to get her voice under control. "Ten times."

"Larch, that isn't that much," Palmer said, a warm smile on his face, "I know some people in school that have double, no, triple that amount. It's nothing to worry about at all." Saying this had the desired effect; Larch's features relaxed, and a ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

"Thanks, Palmer."

Just then, the sound of a chair being moved reached their ears, and they turned to see Oak, holding a large tray, with three drinks, and a small cake; their orders.

"Here you are," Oak said, handing Palmer the cup of tea, and Larch the mug of cocoa, "Exactly what you asked for." He smiled at the two of them, before taking a drink from his own cup.

"Thank you!" Larch exclaimed through mouthfuls of the cocoa, the brown drink coating her mouth, "It's delicious!"

"You're welcome then," Oak said sheepishly, "And how's yours, Palmer?"

"Perfect." Palmer replied, taking another sip, "Just perfect."

"That's what I love about this place," Larch began enthusiastically, "You're never disappointed!"

"Amen to that." Both the boys said in unison, before Oak lifted his drink into the air,

"I propose a toast: To the perfection that is the café, and to our friendship." Palmer and Larch were quick to raise their drinks, and they gladly toasted, before finishing off their drinks.

As Oak took away the empty drinks, and Larch devoured her cake, Palmer looked out of the window. It was now dark outside; the sun had set rather quickly, or they had been in there longer than he thought. He'd best be getting home soon if he wanted any hope of waking early enough to not miss the reaping. Since if he missed that, he'd never see anything again; the Peacekeepers would quickly gun him down, leaving his corpse wherever he died. Just another nasty aspect of the reaping day; be there, or die.

Palmer looked over to the other side of the café, and watched as Oak returned to the table, his hands empty. Without warning, a yawn escaped from the brown haired boy's mouth, and Oak and Larch looked at him, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Seems somebody's tired." Oak said jokingly, before yawning himself.

"You're one to talk." Larch chipped in, "Look at the two of you. If we don't get home soon, I'll have to tuck the two of you in right here!" She then began to giggle uncontrollably, her sombre tone from before all but gone.

"Alright then, let's go home." Palmer decided wearily, and his two friends nodded in agreement.

They got up from the table, and walked across the café, thanking the owner for such a good time. She smiled in response, and the trio walked out of the doors, and into the night time streets of District 7.

It was dark, but not cold, Palmer noted. He guessed it was due to the somewhat warmer climate of the district that prevented it from becoming extremely cold at night. But that didn't mean that it was all bright and sunny; it was practically pitch black.

"So," Larch began, and if it weren't for the lack of visibility, Oak and Palmer would have clearly seen the devious grin on her face, "Last one to the housing area has to buy all of our next meal at the café!" The last of her sentence drifted in the wind as she darted off down the road.

"Come on!" Oak called to Palmer, "Let's make sure she doesn't win this time!" Palmer nodded, and after letting out another laugh, darted off into the darkness, following the airy giggles of Larch.

"I'm catching up to you!" He called after her, panting heavily.

"Wait for me!" Palmer heard Oak's cries behind him. Not that far behind, but far behind none the less.

"Come on, slowpokes!" Larch called behind her, to both Palmer and Oak.

"Oh. That's it!" Oak yelled, but Palmer remained silent, a smug grin crossing his face as he swiftly matched Larch's pace. He turned to face her, and sensing another presense, Larch turned to face him. Upon seeing Palmer catching up with her, she let out a slight yelp.

"Palmer?! How?!" She shouted at him, but Palmer simply laughed, before running across the road, ahead of her.

Palmer's hands flew to the nearest house, and he let out a cry of triumph. He had finally beaten Larch!

"I win!" He shouted into the night sky, "Take that, Larch!" The sound of panting filled the air, and soon enough, Larch and Oak dragged themselves to the house, gasping for air.

After a few moments, Larch managed to regain her breath, and took Palmer's hand in her own, shaking it.

"Congrats," She panted, "Guess you won." The weary smile she was wearing turned confident yet again, and a cocky laugh broke free, "But you won't be so lucky next time."

"We'll see, Larch." Palmer said, laughing. "We'll see."

"Not to be a party pooper or anything," Oak began, "But it's quite late, and I don't know about you, but I'm rather tired." Oak was right; it was late at night, and they had the reaping ahead of them.

"Alright then, let's go home." Palmer declared, earning two nods of approval.

Wordlessly, the three of them walked to the end of the street, stopping in front of a house with all of its lights still on; Palmer's home. Palmer walked up to the front door, and before opening it, he turned to face Larch and Oak.

"I guess I'll see the two of you tomorrow then." He said, about to walk into his house, when Larch began to speak.

"I just had an idea! You know how the reaping's not until the afternoon?"

"Yeah," Palmer replied.

"Well, how's about we spend the morning together!"

"Doing what, exactly?" Oak questioned.

"I don't know right now, but I'll figure out something!" She declared brashly, before waving to Palmer, "See you tomorrow!"

"Same." Palmer said, opening the door. He stepped inside, and turned to face his friends, but they had already run off, racing to whoever's house was closest. A smile crossed his face, and Palmer closed the door behind him, finally home.

Almost instantly, the sound of small feet running down the stairs echoed throughout the house, and Palmer had no time to react as his younger sister, Magnolia, tackled him to the ground in a fit of childish laughter.

"Palmer, you're home!" She laughed, as her older brother stood up.

"Yep, I'm home." Palmer replied warmly, before embracing the little girl in a hug. As far as relationships with people went, there wasn't anyone closer to one another than Palmer and Magnolia. The small eight year old girl always managed to put a smile on his face, no exceptions. She had their mother's fair brown hair, and their father's friendly green eyes.

"I'm so happy! I haven't seen you all day!" Magnolia continued, her voice full of positive energy. "At least we can be together tomorrow all day!"

"Actually, Magnolia," Palmer said, stroking her hair, holding her close, "I promised Larch and Oak that we'd spend the morning together,"

"Oh," Magnolia said, deflated.

"But I promise you that as soon as the reaping ends, we'll spend the rest of the day together."

"Pinky promise?" Magnolia demanded. Smiling, Palmer offered his hand, and their pinky fingers intertwined.

"Pinky promise." Palmer said, before kissing her on the forehead, "And look at the time. If I were you, I'd be asleep. After all, we have to be in the town square by lunch time."

"Okay!" Magnolia replied, before running off upstairs, giggling all the while.

Letting out a tired sigh, Palmer walked down the hallway, and into the living room. It was empty, but the light was on. His parents weren't there. They were probably in the kitchen. Palmer walked out of the room, turning the light off, and entered the kitchen. Yet again, nothing. But before he left, Palmer caught the time.

23:40

It was nearly midnight. They were all probably asleep, with the exception of Magnolia, who refused to sleep until Palmer was home. Letting out another yawn, Palmer became aware of just how tired he was.

Walking out of the room, Palmer turned the light off, and made his way up the stairs. He looked at the door to his parents' bedroom, and listened in. A faint snoring sound could be heard. He was right; they were asleep.

He walked across the landing, to Magnolia's bedroom. He pushed the door open, and found his younger sister laying on the bed, fast asleep. She was known for being able to doze off remarkably quickly. Palmer blew her a kiss, and walked out of her room, and into his own. He turned the light on, and took in his room.

In the corner, there was his bed; a small wooden one, but sturdy enough to survive an apocalypse. On the other side of the room was his closet; made of sturdy wood, and containing Palmer's few outfits.

But what Palmer loved the most about his room was the wooden shelf on the wall above his bed. It was full to the brim with books, and not just the kind that the Capitol endorsed, or rather, enforced upon the citizens. No, this was old world fiction, full of controversial tales about futuristic dystopian societies, gritty tales full of life or death situations, saucy love stories, and massive fantasies involving creatures that could have only been imagined by the greatest of authors. Of course, these books were completely banned in all of the districts; reading was classed as an extreme waste of time and resources, and these books were probably restricted in even the Capitol. After all, if the wrong person read a book about how the loveable underdog manages to completely tear down an oppressive government, they might have the intelligence and resources to create a full-scale rebellion against the Capitol.

Sighing at the thought, Palmer walked over to his bed, and pulled back the covers. He then sat on the edge of his bed, and went to work untying his work boots. Once that was done, he pulled them off, and placed them neatly in the corner of the room. They had to be in decent condition for use the day after the reaping, along with the rest of his work attire. That in mind, Palmer began to swiftly unbutton his shirt, pulling it off, and carefully hung it up on the wall next to his boots. The same went for his work jeans, and soon enough, his work outfit was hanging on the wall next to his bed, leaving Palmer in his undershorts.

Making sure that his work outfit wouldn't come loose in the night, Palmer crossed the room once more, and crawled into bed, sliding the covers over him, and drifted off to sleep, his thoughts being those of the next day.

He would have the entirety of the day off tomorrow, and would be able to almost whatever he wanted. Sure, the reaping would cut off three hours of the day, but still, what was three hours compared to the 24 hours of freedom from work and school? When he would wake up, he would waste no time in going out to find Larch and Oak. The three would do whatever they would be doing until about noon, when Palmer would go home, and change into his reaping clothes, before heading to the town square with his family. After that, an afternoon with Magnolia. After all, she had been looking forward to this for weeks on end, and it was sort of impossible to not cave in to an eight year old's demands.

When Palmer opened his eyes again, the morning sun was streaming through his window, right into his eyes. He blinked several times, before sitting up. This day had come around too soon for his liking, but what could he do except get on with the day's events?

Palmer climbed out of bed, and walked across the room to the closet. He swung the wooden doors open, and pulled out his reaping outfit; a simple dark suit, with formal dress shoes. He hated the outfit, but it was an unspoken rule to look as smart as possible for the reaping. Regardless of his sentiments towards it, Palmer placed it neatly on his bed, before pulling out his other outfit to wear until the reaping; a plain, grey, sleeveless shirt, and a pair of worn jogging pants that Palmer had outgrown several years ago, meaning that they only fell to halfway down his shins. Good thing it was summer, or he might have found it slightly uncomfortable.

After putting the outfit on, along with a pair of worn running shoes, Palmer opened the door of his bedroom. The smell of freshly cooking meat reached him, the aroma wrapping itself around his nostrils. It smelled delicious; another thing that Palmer loved about reaping day; a delicious breakfast. After all, it could potentially be the last meal he ate before being shipped off to die, but the odds of that were so low, it was more probable that he'd be hit by a train than get reaped. Either way, it meant good food; the local butchers and bakers usually sold food at a discounted price the day before reaping day.

Following the scent of the delicious breakfast, Palme descended down the flight of stairs, and turned left, entering the kitchen and dining room rolled into one. His mother and Magnolia sat at the table, talking, whilst his father was standing near the oven, preparing breakfast.

"Good morning, Palmer." His mother said warmly, and motioned to the table, "Come, sit down." Palmer complied, and sat at the table, opposite Magnolia. His mother was a rather pretty woman, with brown hair that fell in waves down her back, and dark brown eyes that always seemed alert. She was also quite caring; always putting her family before herself. That was probably why those she worked with loved to be around her. Luckily enough, both her children had inherited her rich brown hair, giving them attractive qualities.

Palmer's father was also a decent looking man, with thinning dark blonde hair, a constant layer of stubble over his face, and dulled green eyes. From a distance, he looked rather plain, but if you got close to him, physically and emotionally, his eyes almost seemed to light up, becoming a brilliant green. Magnolia had inherited those eyes, making her the more beautiful of the two Willows children. If she was anything like her parents, Magnolia would grow up to be a very beautiful woman indeed. Palmer, on the other hand, would probably end up with the rugged qualities of his father, with the soft features of his mother, making him not bad looking, but not in the same way as his sister was predicted to be.

"I hope you've all got quite the appetite," The voice of Palmer's father rang out. His voice was quite deep, but with an almost melodic quality to it; it was one of the things that his mother was attracted to. Ironically enough, Palmer's father had the musical ability of a dying tracker jacker, despite the musical quality of his voice. "Because we have a large amount of breakfast."

As the plates of food were placed onto the table, both Palmer's and Magnolia's eyes lit up with joy. Their breakfast consisted of several slices of toasted bread, eggs, and a few slices of bacon. Sheer bliss. Without another word, Palmer began to devour the meal in front of him. The toasted bread was delicious; Palmer could tell straight away that it was freshly baked, the eggs ran down his throat, bursting with flavour, and the bacon... Words wouldn't suffice for the sheer bliss that was thrown on Palmer's face with each and every mouthful. He wanted to savour this meal forever, yet at the same time, he wanted to just shove it all into his mouth in one big gulp, it was that delicious.

However, it didn't last forever, and soon Palmer was licking the remainder of the juices from the egg off of his plate, his stomach bloated from the delicious meal. He felt so satisfied, that he nearly didn't want to go out and meet Larch and Oak. Nearly, however, wasn't quite entirely, and Palmer found the energy to get up from the table, and head towards the hallway.

"Where are you going?" His father asked, concerned. Oh, right. He hadn't told his parents about the plans for this morning.

"I'm gonna go out and see Oak and Larch," He explained, before quickly adding, "Don't worry. I'll be back in time for the reaping."

"Okay then," His mother replied, "Just be careful." Her voice was full of caring concern, just like always.

"I'll be fine." Palmer exclaimed to his family, "See you later."

Walking out of the room, Palmer made his way down the hallway, and to the front door of the house. He reached out, and grabbed the door handle, pulling the door open.

The sound of birds chirping reached Palmer's ears, and the warm summer air wrapped around him. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a day off from life. He shut the door, and ran down the empty street, eagerly awaiting the fun that today would bring. Palmer picked up the pace, and turned the corner, the sound of his feet running on the slightly dusty floor drowning out all other sounds. In the distance, Palmer could just make out the sounds of people talking; probably the Capitol workers preparing the town square for the reaping. Judging by the position of the sun, Palmer had about three hours before the reaping began. Which was enough time for him.

Palmer slowed down, and walked across one of the several roads that led from the expanse of forest that surrounded the district; they were used by the transport trucks to deliver lumber to the train station. Palmer shook his head, and began to laugh. Why had he stopped? The trucks didn't operate on reaping day; nothing did.

Grinning to himself, Palmer ran across the road, and headed towards another section of houses that were more run down than his own; Larch's house. The scent of pine was strong in the air as Palmer made his way into the small cul-de-sac of houses. The path here was covered in dried up mud from the forests that the workers in the lumber yards had dragged in every single day. Following the trail of dirt, Palmer made his way to one house in particular.

After wiping the slight sheen of sweat from his brow, Palmer knocked on the door of the house. He waited several moments, before it slowly opened, Oak being revealed to Palmer.

"Hey," Oak said, fully opening the door, revealing the insides of Larch's house, "Care to come in?"

"Why not?" Palmer replied, flashing a smile at Oak. He stepped inside, Oak shutting the door behind him.

Palmer took in Larch's house. The layout wasn't too different from his own, but the atmosphere was different. It was almost as if he could feel the poorness of the house; the mood of the house contrasted with the personality of Larch entirely.

"Hey, Larch! Palmer's here!" Oak cried out, and seconds later, Larch emerged from around the corner, wearing what Palmer imagined was her reaping outfit; a green sleeveless tank top adorned with several pinned on flowers, and a bright coloured skirt. It was rather feminine, but it still screamed of Larch's tomboyish nature.

"Palmer!" Larch said, running up to him, before looking him over, "I didn't know you were going for the revealing look this year." She teased, patting Palmer's bare shoulder.

"This isn't my reaping outfit," He explained coolly, "I'm just wearing this until the reaping begins."

"Oh, alright then." Oak let out a smile, and Palmer looked at his friend's reaping outfit. It was a checked button up shirt, with the first two buttons undone, and a pair of smart jeans. Very down to earth, and very Oak. Upon seeing this, Palmer realised that his reaping outfit was the only one that didn't compliment his personality. Then again, neither did this outfit; it did a poor job of covering him up, but it did allow for him to be cool in the summer heat.

"So," Palmer began to Larch, "What're we going to do?"

"That's easy," Larch replied, "We're going into the forest."

"What?!" Oak and Palmer replied at the same time. Neither boy had ever set foot in there, and Palmer planned for it to stay that way. The forest was full of bugs, and bugs creeped him out.

"Don't panic," Larch explained, "It's not forbidden, or whatever you thought. And besides, it's nice and isolated, away from the frantic nature of reaping day."

"Alright then," Oak sighed, "But if we get punished for this, I'll say it was all your fault.

"Oh, Oak," Larch taunted, "And all this time I thought that Palmer was the whimpy one." She glanced at the flustered Palmer, and let out a laugh, "Don't take it personally." Larch winked at him, and rushed towards the door, opening it.

"Guess we'd better follow her." Oak mumbled to Palmer, his tone uneasy. It made sense, considering they were going somewhere that they didn't know about.

The two boys walked out of the front door, and down the path, following the excited Larch. She reached the road, and turned to face them.

"Come on, we don't have all day!" She called back to them, and Palmer and Oak exchanged the same grin.

"She is way too excited over this." Palmer said, Oak nodding in agreement. They then reached up with her at the grey road, and followed her down the road, towards the forest. The warmth of the summer sun seemed to spread to the various brightly coloured flowers that bloomed all along the road side, and even into the forest. The road curved left, and Palmer, Oak, and Larch all followed the concrete as it became dirt, and then, the natural forest floor.

Palmer looked around with awe at the massive trees that grew up from the ground, casting a calming shadow of green along the ground, rippling in the slight breeze; a natural patchwork. Everything smelled of pine, and Palmer found himself greedily taking in the scent. It was almost as enticing as the smell of his breakfast. A bird suddenly shot up from the bushes, a mockingjay, and vanished into the canopy up above, its melodic cries ringing out through the trees. Only one word described this place to Palmer; beautiful.

"So, where are we going?" Oak asked Larch, who had lost herself in the nature. Snapping out of some sort of trance, she pointed straight ahead.

"Just a little further; you'll love it when you see it." She replied, and ran off down the natural clearing of the bushes. It looked like a path formed of grass and flowers, almost giving off a magical atmosphere.

Oak followed Larch, and Palmer lagged behind, taking in everything. The grass below him had managed to join together; blades of grass becoming twisted braids that made tiny pathways for smaller animals. Palmer stopped as a small rodent darted out from one bush, looked at him with its large black eyes, and vanished into the bushes again. Palmer looked ahead again, and caught up with Larch and Oak.

Suddenly, Larch looked around, her eyes plastered with fear, and leapt into the bushes. She poked her head out, and motioned for Oak and Palmer to do the same. They both hit the floor, sinking as low as possible. A small spider crawled across Palmer's hand. He resisted the urge to cringe as it walked off of his hand, disappearing from sight.

"Larch, what was-" Oak began, but was cut off by Larch shoving her hand onto his mouth.

"Not so loud!" She whispered, before motioning to the same bush that she was hiding in, "Get in here, if you want to live."

Something was off here. Something was very off, and an odd feeling filled Palmer's stomach; fear. He knew not to ignore such a feeling, and darted into the bush, alongside Oak. The three of them moved deeper into the massive bush, and it revealed itself to be a small cave made of leaves and branches. As soon as they were securely in the bush, Larch let out a small sob.

"Larch, what is it?" Palmer asked, his voice low, and full of concern, like normal.

"I'm so stupid!" Was Larch's reply. She whispered the words so harshly, it was like a muted hiss. "How could I have forgotten?!"

"Forgotten what, exactly?" Oak asked, his voice tense, "Larch, what was it?" This time, his tone was agitated. Another sob escaped Larch's lips, and she cleared her throat.

"It's illegal to be in the forest on the morning of the reaping day."

All of the positivity in the air disappeared with that single statement. They were in the forest illegally. As in, if they were found, it was punishable by death. The thought of death sent a chill down Palmer's spine, and he began to wish that he had brought something with longer sleeves.

"It's fine, though," Oak spoke up, "After all, we haven't seen any Peacekeepers, have we?" In response, Larch pointed in the direction of where they were. Curious, Palmer poked his head out. It still looked calm and beautiful, like-

Three pairs of white boots came stomping down, crushing the small, intricate pathways made by the grass. Peacekeepers. And as if to make matters worse, Palmer could see that each Peackeeper was carrying a rifle, probably with the instruction to shoot and kill. Palmer quickly retreated into the bush, and saw Oak and Larch both looking out too. They returned in, both of their faces white with horror. Larch began to shake and sob, holding her mouth to stifle the sound. The stomping quickly grew distant, and Palmer let out a breath he wasn't even aware that he was holding.

"Now what?" Palmer asked urgently. He could see why it was illegal to be here; potential tributes could hide away, maybe even managing to vanish forever in the depths of the forest. All to avoid the reaping.

"Isn't it obvious?" Larch let out a choked laugh, "We get out. Now."

"But the Peacekeepers-"

"Oak, we need to get out before they get back!"

They didn't need telling again, and all three of them stood up, looking out of the bush. Palmer couldn't see the Peacekeepers, but he could see the destruction that they had left in their wake. However, there was no sign that the road was close either.

Larch was the first to move. Furtively, she leapt out of the bushes, and into a clearing. Palmer and Oak followed her. She then looked around, before running to the cover of the trees. It only made sense; remain as hidden as possible to get out alive.

Not even daring to breathe, Palmer followed Larch's lead, sticking closely to a tree. They then remained still for a few moments, before moving out to the next tree. They repeated this a few times, continually headed in one direction, but there was still no sign of the road out of there.

"Larch," Palmer whispered. Larch snapped her head around, and gave a questioning glance that was easily interpreted as 'what?', "I'm sure that we managed to get from the entrance to where we were in this amount of time; what's taking us so long."

"Well, think about it logically," Larch replied quietly, "They probably have a whole swarm of Peacekeepers surrounding the entrances. We need to find a secret way out."

"Secret way out?" Oak said quizzically, "What do you mean by that?"

"Oak, do you really think the starving citizens of the district just sit around, waiting for tesserae to fall from the sky?"

"Well-"

"Don't answer that." She snapped, "And the answer is: They don't. They sneak into the forest, and steal natural fruits and berries, and occasionally, a brave soul may try hunting. And how do they get in undetected? Secret entrances." Oak remained silent, whilst Palmer made a murmur of approval. It made sense; they would have been idiots if they relied solely on tesserae grain; it barely lasted one person, never mind large families.

"And do you know of any of these secret entrances' locations?" Palmer asked. Larch faltered, and stumbled, tripping onto the ground. Oak and Palmer quickly ran over to her, and helped her up. But when they saw her face, what little hope they had forced themselves to believe in had vanished. Larch was sobbing, and shaking her head.

"No," Was all that she could say, "No, no, no, no!" She stood up, shakily, and punched a tree, slamming her head into it. "I don't know where any of them are."

Palmer felt his own resolve break. Nobody had any idea of how to get out. None of them. They were trapped in the forest, with the Peacekeepers patrolling every easy exit, with less than two hours to get to the reaping, and if they failed to attend, it meant certain death. Palmer felt a sudden urge to help out, to do something, but what could he do? The only one that knew anything about this forest was Larch, and she was currently a sobbing wreck under a tree. But there was a nagging feeling that kept grabbing at Palmer, and he had no idea what it was. Whenever he tried to think about what it was, all he got was the image of the small rodent, vanishing into one of the bushes. Wait a minute; vanishing into bushes!

"Guys, I think I know a way out!" Palmer suddenly exclaimed to his two friends. Oak looked at him in disbelief, whilst Larch's expression was different, as if she had the faintest trace of hope.

"You do?" She asked, her voice shaky and raw from crying, breaking on every other letter, "Where?"

"The bushes near the entrance; I saw a small rodent crawl into it. By all means, I should have been able to hear it hiding in the bush, but I couldn't. And now that I've thought about it, I think it was a tunnel dug out as an easy way in and out!"

"Are you serious?!" Oak exclaimed, before clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Deadly serious, my friend." Palmer said, full of confidence, whilst Larch's face was deep in thought.

"You know, I think you're right! I remember one of my neighbours continually going into their back yard with a shovel over the course of a few months. Which means that if it truly exists, it should bring us out right near my house!" She stood up, a hopeful grin on her face, "Come on! We have to see if Palmer's right!"

The three of them desperately scrambled through the foliage, batting back leaves and jumping over roots, until they reached the section of large bushes. There was a slightly more prominent breeze now, and it was doing wonders by cooling off Palmer; sweat was trickling down his forehead. After remaining at mercy to the wind for a brief moment, Palmer took the lead, heading to the bush where he saw the rodent. Yep, this was definitely the one.

"It's this one!" He called out, and Larch and Oak ran over to him, looking at the bush in question.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared that something was off about this bush; the colouration of the leaves was different. Suspecting something, Larch picked one, and ran her fingers along it.

"It's plastic!" She cried out in a mixture of shock and joy, before bending down. She grabbed the bottom of the bush, and with a little effort, lifted the whole thing out of the ground. And right there, under the bush, was a large hole.

Palmer didn't know what to do. He felt several emotions: joy; triumph; surprise; fear. After all, there still wasn't the guarantee that the tunnel was one hundred percent safe.

"Do you guys think it's safe?" Oak voiced his concerns, and Larch ran up to the hole.

"Guess there's only one way to find out!" She leaped towards the gaping hole, and vanished down it.

Palmer and Oak quickly surrounded the hole, and looked down. Larch was at the bottom, looking up at them, smiling. The hole was roughly two metres deep; easy enough to climb out of, even if it took a little effort.

"It seems to be holding up alright." Larch said to Oak and Palmer, before walking down the tunnel a little. She returned, nodding in approval. "It'll manage to stay in one piece as we get out of here."

Needing no further invitation, the two boys both leapt down into the hole, landing securely on the ground. The force of the impact sent a brief wave of pain throughout Palmer's body, but the sensation quickly passed, and he followed Larch and Oak down the tunnel.

Size wise, the tunnel was about two metres, both vertially and horizontally, meaning that the three of them just about had enough space to move about freely. The dirt walls were compacted, and some parts were lined with logs and sheets of wood, to prevent a cave in. Had that happened in the past? Palmer didn't really want to think of that; they were in too deep to do anything but move forward. Which brought forward the next problem: It was pitch black, as in Palmer couldn't even see his own hand which was mere inches from his face. At this current moment in time, he was grateful for not being claustrophobic.

Eventually, a faint trace of light leaked into the tunnel, and Palmer could quite clearly see brightness at the end of the tunnel. The size of the small amount of light kept growing, until Palmer was able to see both Oak and Larch clearly. They were out.

Larch was the first to reach the end of the tunnel. After quickly looking up, she jumped upwards, and pulled herself out of the hole. Oak followed suit. Finally, Palmer leapt up. But he missed grabbing the top of the hole, and began to fall. Luckily, Larch managed to grab him just in time, and pulled him up.

"Thanks." He said to her, gasping for air. He stood up, and wiped the majority of the dirt off of his clothing. He would have to change his outfit quickly, since there was no way that his mother would let him be seen at the reaping like that. It seemed there was some sort of unspoken rivalry between various families when it came to reaping day; as if it was a competition to see who could show up with the most presentable kids. But then, another feeling filled Palmer, and he listed intently to the background noise. Instead of the usual bird chirping, he could only hear one thing; voices.

"Guys," He began, looking around, "We're late for the reaping." The words sank in, and Palmer quickly looked around. Larch was right; they were only two houses down from her own, and they could get to the town square rather quickly.

"Let's go!" Larch exclaimed, vaulting the fence. Oak and Palmer, however, ripped open the gate, and joined their friend in the mad rush to get to the town square.

The trio of friends panted desperately as they ran down the clean grey road, leaving a trail of dirt behind them as they rushed to get to the reaping, turning corners at paces Palmer didn't think he was capable of. Then again, when his life was on the line, what else could he do but get to the reaping as fast as humanly possible.

Finally, they were rewarded, and managed to reach the queue of kids just outside of the town square. They were very late, Palmer could tell; the majority of these kids were starving twelve year olds that looked like they could barely stand. But it didn't matter, they hadn't missed the reaping. Oak and Palmer, Oak behind Palmer, looked to their right, at Larch. She exchanged a nervous glance, before giggling, and pointing at their outfits. That was right. They all looked like complete wrecks. The pretty flowers had vanished from Larch's top, and her legs were caked in mud. Oak's shirt had a massive tear down the side, revealing part of his bare torso whenever the wind blew, whilst Palmer looked disastrous. His hair was a mess; he had a small gash on his arm; the lower part of his shirt was in tatters; his pants had gone from grey to brown, and his shoes were splitting apart. As far as appearances went, they could have been a lot better.

"Next." A woman's voice with a Capitol accent called out, and Palmer looked to see that the line had vanished. He quickly rushed up to the desk, and the Peacekeeper grabbed his hand. His palm was lined with tiny scars from his job at the factory; he had received more papercuts than he had sneezes. Using a needle, she pricked his fingertip, and shoved the bleeding finger onto a sheet of paper. A small monitor lit up, and displayed his name in bright green letters.

WILLOWS, PALMER. AGE 16

"You may go through." She said sternly, and Palmer nodded, rushing into the crowd of sixteen year old males. Several of them gave him disgusted glances as he made his way to a free space, followed shortly by Oak. The two of them had to hold in their laughter as they eyed each other up. They looked disgusting, but somehow, it was hilarious.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome!" Suddenly, a high pitched voice filled the air, and Palmer looked up to the stage to see a fashion challenged person on the stage, holding a microphone. They were so doctored by make-up that Palmer had no way of distinguishing whether or not it was a man or woman. It seemed that in recent years, the Capitol's fashion statements had just gotten wilder and wilder. "Welcome to this year's Hunger Games!"

How fun. This man, no, woman, no, _thing_, was practically bursting with joy at this, and its voice... Oh, how it grated on Palmer. "Now, we already know about the history of Panem, so this year, we'll be skipping it, and going straight into the selection of our courageous young man and woman!" It did a strange little dance, and clapped its hands a few times, before heading over to one of the two large reaping bowls. Both were filled to the brim with names of kids from District 7, each name representing a chance at being selected to be sent into an arena to die.

"Now, as with tradition, ladies first!" The escort cried out, before shoving its hand into the reaping bowl. It fished around for several moments, before finally deciding on a slip. It pulled out the tiny white square, and unfolded it, about to read out the name that was printed on there in careful handwriting.

"Ella Lawson!"

The entire square went completely silent, as the crowd of seventeen year old girls parted, revealing a rather tall, with soft features, and dark hair. She looked quite pretty to Palmer. After taking a series of deep breaths, Ella walked past the crowd of girls, into the clearing between the two gender groups, and made her way up to the stage. By the time she had climbed the last step, her face was white, her eyes wide.

"Your age, dear," The escort said to Ella, and handed her the microphone. After clearing her throat several times, probably to keep calm, she spoke into the microphone.

"Seventeen." Her tone came off surprisingly calm, enough that Ella herself was surprised that she had spoken like that given the situation.

"Ah, excellent! Now, hold your applause, since we still have one more tribute to announce!"

It moved over to the next bowl, and shoved its hand deep into it, searching for the perfect slip. As this happened, time seemed to slow down for Palmer. An anxiety was building up, like every year when this was happening. It didn't feel any different than normal, so he relaxed; there was nothing to worry about.

"Palmer Willows!"

Well, that was completely unexpected. Palmer tried to move, to do anything, but found himself paralysed by fear. Was this real? Had he just been selected? No, he couldn't have! It was more likely that he'd be hit by a train! He couldn't have been picked!

"Palmer Willows, could you please make your way to the stage." The escort repeated, its tone more agitated. Palmer glanced around him. The Peacekeepers were closing in on the males, prepared to open fire until he presented himself. Swallowing his fear, Palmer took a step forward, then another, then another. It was like he had learn how to walk all over again; it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

The boys around him parted slowly, to let him pass. There was no sound in the square as Palmer reached the clearing. Taking a deep breath, he began the slow walk down the aisle to the stage.

"Stop!" A voice rang out, and every head in District 7 turned to the beaten up boy that now stood in the same clearing as Palmer. Oak. "I volunteer to take his place as tribute!" Palmer looked in horror as Oak stormed forward, tears in his eyes. No, he couldn't let him!

"Oak, get back!" Palmer yelled in despair at his best friend, in an attempt to get him to stop. But it didn't work, and Oak continued to storm towards the stage. There was only one option left to save his friend's life.

With sudden strength, Palmer propelled himself forwards, delivering a punch to the back of Oak's head. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but it knocked him down, and Oak collapsed in a sobbing heap as Palmer passed him. Palmer looked back, and whispered faintly to Oak as he stood on the first step.

"I'm sorry."

Fighting back tears, Palmer climbed the stairs. It felt like he was climbing a mountain, but somehow he managed to get onto the stage, a small sheen of sweat breaking out as he realised another horror. His actions with Oak had just been broadcasted all over Panem. The Careers would see him as a fighter; someone to kill quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for this year: Palmer Willows and Ella Lawson!" The crowd performed the mandatory applause, and Ella extended her hand. Palmer did the same, and the two shook hands. But Ella's piercing brown eyes glared cooly into his own, and Palmer couldn't help but feel distressed all throughout the time that it took for the Peacekeepers to drag the pair into the justice building.

Palmer was thrown into the first room that they encountered in the building, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving him prisoner in a very plush cell. The amount of rich fabric was suffocating. He was barely alone for a single moment, however, because the door slid open, and a small sobbing figure ran into him.

"Palmer, you promised!" It was Magnolia, sobs continually shaking her tiny form, "You said that we'd spend all of this afternoon together!" A choked wail burst from her lips, and her tear stained face surfaced from Palmer's chest. Her eyes were red and raw from crying, and tears began to spill from Palmer's eyes as he clutched his little sister close.

"I'm so sorry, Magnolia," His voice was shaky, "I'm so, so, sorry." The last of the statement came out as a faint whisper and sob. Palmer looked up, and saw his parents walking in. Both were sobbing profusely.

His mother was the first to envelop both of her children in a tight hug.

"Palmer, I-I..." Her voice failed her as she realised nothing she could say would fix the situation. She broke down into a sob, and held him tightly, "My baby boy..."

Palmer's father was the next to join the sobbing mass of hugs and tears. He held the three of them closely together, his face completely stoic. Palmer turned his head, and his father's facade shattered, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Nothing else was said for the next few minutes, until a loud knocking filled the room. The door burst open, and a Peacekeeper glared at Palmer's family.

"Your goodbye time is up." He said firmly, and emotionless, like a robot. Then, one by one, each member of Palmer's family pulled themselves off of him. First, his father, who clutched his hand, then his mother, who kissed his forehead, and whispered an 'I love you' into his ear. Then, finally, Magnolia.

It was heartbreaking, watching the small girl force herself to let go of her big brother for potentially the last time. She managed to make herself get off of him, and looked up at him with her bright green eyes.

"Palmer, please don't die." Her voice was faint and raspy, but the message was clear.

"I won't," Palmer told her, his heart shattering with each word, "And when we get back, I'll spend the whole day with you." He knew it was completely false, but he had to make this as comfortable as possible.

"Pinky promise?" Magnolia whimpered.

"Pinky promise." Palmer said, his tone sombre, and the two locked their pinky fingers together. Then, Magnolia let go, and began to walk out of the room, before facing him.

"I'll always love you, Palmer. For ever and ever!" Then, in another fit of choked sobs, Magnolia disappeared behind the door, and Palmer sat there, controlling his own sobs, but the lump in his throat never went.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and for a moment, Palmer desperately wished it was his family, but instead, it was the people who were second closest to him; Oak and Larch. Instead of an emotional goodbye, like Palmer expected, Oak ran up to him, and gripped the front of Palmer's shirt.

"Why?!" Was all Oak said, "Why didn't you let me volunteer?!" Tears spilled from his eyes, and Oak slumped to the floor, "Why?"

"Because I couldn't let my best friend die instead of me." Palmer replied, his voice sounding wiser than ever before.

"You know, that's a really brave thing." This time, Larch spoke up, "I mean, refusing to let someone else take your place in the Games? I know I would have let them." She swallowed hard, then walked up to him. "Don't die, you hear me? That's the coward's way out." Her words were empowering, and Palmer couldn't help but smile. Then, she shoved something into his hand. "I swear, if you don't wear this during the Games, so help me I will come in there and kill you myself." Palmer looked down at his hand, and saw what Larch had given him. A wooden bracelet, woven using willow; his namesake.

"Larch, I don't know what to say." Palmer said honestly.

"The thing cost me a fortune, so you'd better wear it with pride." Larch spluttered out, before helping Oak up from the floor.

"I will." Palmer said, a now determined smile crossing his face.

"So, see you later?" Larch said, a twang of sorrow in her voice.

"Of course." Palmer replied, and Larch moved in for a hug. As the two of them closed in, Palmer wrapped his arms around Larch. The two of them remained like this for a few moments, before Larch began to shudder; she was crying. However, as soon as Palmer became aware of his friend's emotional state, she pulled herself off of him, and gave him a salute.

"Take care." This was the last thing that she said, before she grabbed Oak's hand, and pulled him out of the room. The door slid shut slowly, and Palmer could hear the sobbing of his two friends grow distant.

Now that he was certain that he wouldn't receive any more visitors, Palmer placed the bracelet on his wrist. It fit tightly enough to remain secure, but not in a constricting way. No, it was a source of comfort, and of memories of District 7 that he would carry with him until his death.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Palmer turned his head, coming face to face with a Peacekeeper.

"Time to go." He said gruffly, before pulling Palmer out of the room, and into the main hallway of the justice building. He spotted Ella, his district partner, just ahead of him, and watched as she was pushed out of the doors at the back of the building, disappearing from sight. The Peacekeeper in charge of Palmer began to pick up the pace, causing Palmer's shoes to squeak on the shining floor, the sound bouncing throughout the spacious hall. Palmer stopped moving, and looked ahead as the Peacekeeper pushed the doors open in front of them.

The afternoon sunlight met Palmer straight away as he stepped outside, the warm air being a contrast to the chilling air conditioner that was continually freezing the justice building. He walked down the stone steps, and reached a road. This road was different than the other ones; it was black, and slick, looking as if it had been recently laid. There was a car in the middle of the road, and Palmer saw Ella and the escort inside. He walked over to it, and opened the door, climbing inside the black vehicle. Next to him was Ella, and the escort was in the front, alongside the driver.

The car took off at speed, and all that Palmer could do was watch as his home faded from view, potentially for the rest of his life. Deciding not to dawn on the thought, he turned his attention to the inside of the car. The escort was going on about something in its impossible to understand voice, and Ella was pretending to listen. The more Palmer thought about it, the more he realised that Ella actually looked rather similar to him; brown hair and brown eyes. It was almost comforting, knowing that he had someone that looked like him, but he quickly reminded himself that this girl would probably try to kill him in order to return to her home. He decided that it would probably be best to leave her alone.

The car pulled to a stop, and the doors were opened by Peacekeepers. Palmer jumped out of the car, and was instantly met by white. Hundreds of Capitol journalists littered the street surrounding the train station, each one desperate to snap up a million pictures of Ella and himself. Palmer gave an awkward smile, and sighed in relief as the Peacekeepers quite literally ploughed a path through them up to the platform. Palmer walked forward, falling just behind Ella, trying to not focus on the thousand voices screaming his name at once in their high pitched accent. It grated on his brain.

Finally, he reached the platform, and wasted no time in climbing the stairs. It was about the same height as the reaping stage, yet he had no problem climbing these stairs. It was probably due to the fact that the fear of imminent death had passed; he had the next few days to look forward to meeting the other tributes. That would most certainly return the feeling, and with a sickening punch to add to the torment. After all, any one of the kids could potentially be responsible for his death. Or not, and by some stroke of luck, he might actually get home. But that was highly unlikely.

A Loud hissing drowned out the other sounds, and Palmer watched in awe as the silver train's door slid open, the smell of sugar filling the air. That was right; the tribute train was always full of delicious food to consume. Perhaps it was a way of reducing stress.

Casting these thoughts aside, Palmer followed Ella and the escort onto the train, stepping inside. The air in here was much clearer than the air surrounding it; probably some sort of air quality control device. As Palmer thought about the wonders of the Capitol's technology, the silver door of the train slid shut, sealing both his, and Ella's fates for good.


	8. No Way Out

**Jenn Cothoria, District 11 Female Tribute**

* * *

Reaping day...The day everyone dreaded, yet no one was allowed out of it. Perfect, just perfect.

Jenn sighed, staring up at the makeshift stage before the Justice Building. She didn't care if she was reaped or not, either way she was going to die. She had nothing in District Eleven, other than pain. If she was reaped and by some miracle won, she'd only be going back to District Eleven. Though, she'd get out of where she was living now. At that thought, her eyes flitted over to Stephen, who for once had a hard look in his eyes and his lips were pressed in a hard line. His brother had won the Games when Stephen was eight, now the kid's seventeen and just as bad, if not worse, than his brother. She wanted the two dead more than anything, but she had given up on trying to do anything against them. It was hard to hide the fear she felt whenever they were near her, and Stephen knew how to hurt her...So she gave up.

"Hurry up," he growled, pulling Jenn along to the lines to get their blood drawn.

"Relax, we've got time," she snapped back, pulling her arm from his hold. Though she let them do what they wanted to her, she was still stubborn and reserved, that they wouldn't force out of her. The Rebellion had raged and like the odds stated, the districts lost. In the first year of the Rebellion, she and her mom were transferred to District Eleven, and soon after, her mom was shot there, leaving Jenn orphaned with no choice but to move in with Stephen. His brother was in favor of the Capitol, so they left his family alone for the most part. They hardly touched Victor's Village considering the two victors they had were all for the Capitol and would be more than willing to help out if needed.

"Next," her name was called and she moved up, letting the old lady prick the blood from her finger before motioning her to go with the other girls of her age.

"See you afterwards," Stephen called out after her, but Jenn simply ignored his voice and continued forward until her matted blonde hair blended in with the other kids around her. Keeping a blank face, she stared up at the stage until every child eligible for the Games was in the crowd and was ready for the reaping.

"Welcome to the First Annual Hunger Games," the escort started. A shiver ran through Jenn's body, making her sway slightly. With a slight shake of her head, she regained attention of the woman, though anger seared through her.

Freaking liar!

We've lived through this, already!

Free us from this damned thing already!

It was as if the pleas of the people around her were audible, but of course, like all thoughts, they remained unspoken. You couldn't defy the Capitol, even with a statement as harmless as "it's not the first." It could cost you your life or your family's lives.

The escort went on to talk about the previous Rebellion, explaining what a shame it was that District Twelve had to be destroyed, and so on and so forth, but Jenn could have sworn to have seen a smirk trying to make its way to the corner of the escort's lips...Then she went on to explain what the Hunger Games were. She must have been kidding them, but clearly they needed to be reminded of what exactly the death games were.

Simple: you're picked, you train, you go into the arena, you fight, you win and get out. Simple.

"Girls first?" She chimed happily with a wave of her hand, reaching into the bowl. Shifting of feet rippled through the kids there, only a few remained emotionless, one of them being Jenn. Again, she didn't care. She knew how to fight, having trained as a Career, killing was second nature to her...The question is, if she were to be reaped, would she really want to kill those kids? In the midst of the blood, would instincts surface and turn her motives around to kill and kill only? To get out of there alive? She hoped not. But then again, she reminded herself, she hadn't been reaped yet, so no need to jump to conclusions.

"Jenn Cothoria, please come up here," the escort said as she pulled out the name slip from the clear bowl. Jenn shrugged subtly and walked up effortlessly. At least she'd be free of Stephen and his brother. "How old are you?" She questioned. Jenn didn't see why the question was relevant to the reaping itself, but she answered quietly anyway.

"Seventeen." The escort nodded and reached in to take the boy's name. Jenn sighed, letting the anxiety start to get to her, but refused to let the actual reality of what she was heading into enter her head. There were just too many possibilities, and despite her previous indifference, fear was just something that couldn't be suppressed. Any apathy she had felt evaporated into queasiness now and it paled her. I wish this whole thing were over already... She thought to herself, but the beginning hadn't even started yet. It was still the prologue to a seemingly eternal novel.

"Stephen Sauntor," the escort said after what felt like an hour. Jenn's silver eyes flicked over toward the smirking boy, his curls casting dappled shadows on his scowling face. So much for being rid of him...At least Gryffon wasn't going.

Aw crap, he's the freaking mentor... Jenn thought, her heart sinking. Hell with it...

Stephen made his way up beside Jenn and he flashed her a mischievous grin before looking at the escort and shaking her hand. No one responded positively to this action, though no one openly voiced their dislike. Of course, victor's brother, though Gryffon wasn't really considered a true victor in the eyes of the Capitol since the whole Games process has restarted, but he was still protected- both because the Capitol 'liked' him and because of his age. Being twenty-three saved him from ever being reaped again.

"Your tributes for the First Annual Hunger Games, Jenn Cothoria and Stephen Sauntor," the escort said with an almost cheer-sounding chime. Some people nodded but most of District Eleven remained silent. Jenn figured they weren't going to have a victor that year; Jenn wasn't going to die before killing Stephen. He was going to go before her, that much she'd make sure would happen.

Jenn glanced at Stephen once before following the escort toward the Justice Building, ignoring her chatting.

"Ready for some fun, Jenny?" Stephen breathed into her ear, pulling her closer by her waist once they entered the building. Jenn pulled free again, but noticed that he released his hold on her quickly after she tensed.

"You okay?" The escort asked and Jenn replied with a small nod. She didn't want to be there...Not with him. But killing him wouldn't be hard, it'd take no emotional effort. Physical, maybe, but she'd have fun with his death...Slow and painful...Maybe pinning him to a tree by his wrists, shoulders, and ankles, then carve a new face on him...Maybe a few bloody tattoos could be added to his arms and torso. And if loss of blood hadn't killed him by then, she could-

"You'll have an hour for any visitors, then the Peacekeepers will lead you to the train, okay?" Jenn was broken out of her thoughts and nodded once again, lowering her gaze from the woman's face.

"What are you day-dreamin' about?" Stephen asked quietly as they were led to their rooms. Jenn shrugged, not giving him an answer before branching off into a room the escort motioned for her to enter.

Almost as soon as she entered, the door opened and a young girl, about fifteen, with wild brown hair and green eyes ran entered the room and enveloped Jenn in a hug. "Jenn, Jenn...You're going to come back, right?" She murmured.

"I don't want to, Andie," Jenn muttered in response, pulling back, green eyes meeting blue.

"But you'll get him, right? You have to, Jenn...You have to!" Andie insisted in a hushed voice. Jenn replied with a small smile, her message clear: obviously. "Uhg...I'm so sorry..."

"For what?" Jenn asked, knowing she didn't mean the Games.

"You having to be...here...knowing he'll be watching..." She explained somewhat, though Jenn didn't need anymore words.

"We'll both have to cope then, won't we?" Jenn inquired with a crooked grin. Oh, so much had happened, she couldn't even be sure he was still alive.

The door opened again and Andie was ordered out. "Smile...He'll be out of your life for good. If I can't keep any other promise, this'll be the one I keep," she whispered, stepping back as Andie was ushered out.

"You better," she called over her shoulder teasingly before the door shut again. Andie had really been the only girl she really grew close to in District Eleven; Sainge and Matt were more of Stephen's friends and once Jenn started ditching school, they completely grew apart due to Stephen telling them lies, or so Jenn suspected. Because Andie had witnessed the same things happen to her sister, though her sister's punishment was death, not torment, she knew not to trust Stephen and decided to go see Jenn for herself.

Once the hour passed, both she and Stephen were put into Jeeps and driven toward the train station where they then entered the train, obviously, and shown around. The train was truly grand, looking more small hotel rooms than a train, and you could hardly tell it was moving. Jenn didn't care for any of this, though. The reaping was done...Now came the true 'fun'.


	9. Let the Games Begin

**Stephen Sauntor, District 11 Male Tribute**

* * *

The reaping had gone by pretty quickly, though Stephen hadn't expected to be reaped. Oh well, he supposed, nothing he could do against it. And it wasn't all that bad, at least he'd be stuck with someone he knew.

Heh, this'll be great...And my brother's the mentor, too, look at that, Stephen had thought after the escort had introduced him and Jenn. They had been sent into the Justice Building after the reaping and he couldn't wipe the smirk from his face. The escort started chatting about the Capitol and Stephen rolled his eyes. He had heard enough from his brother.

Looping a hand around Jenn's waist delicately, he pulled her closer to him, grinning inwardly from the lack of resistance she had against him now. "Ready for some fun, Jenny?" He murmured in her ear. He caught the escort turning her head around from the corner of his eyes and he let go of Jenn and straightened up quickly, leaving her to jerk back out of his missing hold as soon as the escort looked back.

"You okay?" She asked in her heavy Capitol accent. Stephen snickered, glancing back at Jenn's flushed face. He turned his attention back to the space in front of him and waited until they reached a hallway, a Peacekeeper taking the escort's place in front of them.

"You'll have an hour for any visitors, then the Peacekeepers will lead you to the train, okay?" Was the last thing the escort said, both tributes replying with a nod.

Stephen leaned closer to Jenn again, whispering, "what are you day-dreamin' about?" She tended to do that a lot...It always broke her concentration from everything. And it utterly annoyed him. Maybe that's why he was forced to be more forceful with the girl...

She answered his murmur with a shrug before entering the room the Peacekeeper motioned for her to go into. Stephen was then led to another room a few yards over from the first door and he entered that one. He headed over to the window, looking out at the people leaving their groups and running back to their families, hugging them and crying and sighing happily in relief that they had been spared. Stephen didn't care...It'd be his chance to prove to Gryffon that he didn't just toy around with people...He could kill...He could win it.

Stupid brother...I'll show you, damn it...I have victims...Not just freaking pets, he growled inwardly, his hands clenching into hard fists.

"Angry, Steph'?" A smooth voice asked behind him, causing him to turn around.

"Hey, Sainge," Stephen said with a dazzling smile, his hazel eyes glinting. "Here to wish me death?"

"Yeah, right," the dirty-blonde said with a roll of her golden eyes. She came closer to him and leaned up a little, kissing him quickly. "Don't have too much fun, okay?" She teased, ruffling his hair. Stephen's hand flashed up and he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't do that...It's almost as annoying as calling me 'Steph'," he said, lowering her hand from his head. She smirked and shrugged, unconcerned.

"Good luck, Steph'," she said softly, smiling. "Why don't you prove to all of us how well you can bash people's heads in?"

"Will do," he said, letting her hand go when the door opened and she was called out. "See ya'." Sainge nodded slightly, letting her ringlets fall over her face.

"Bye, Stephen," she said, turning and going toward the door just as the Peacekeeper started to come in.

"Relax, she knows how to walk," Stephen muttered, easily returning the hostile glance the Peacekeeper gave him as he closed the door again when Sainge left.

The next people to come see him was his mother and friend, Matt, but they seemed to have been rushed out quicker than Sainge had, but Stephen was fine with that. The hour went by fairly quickly and the next thing he knew, they were heading into the train that would set off to the Capitol. They were the last district to have their reaping...Let the Games begin...


End file.
